Amity Affliction- BK3
by Akatora Kisaragi
Summary: After the herd attack at the ranch, Kaera Reede was left alone to fight and defend herself. Arriving at an abandoned prison, she discovers her loved ones are still alive, including her most cherished Daryl Dixon. As Kaera fights to understand her own conflicting emotions, she must learn to readjust to human contact all while fighting a local society set on seeing their destruction.


Finally, as I promised, here is my Walking Dead story. However, I'm doing things in an odd order. I am working backwards. I am starting at book three, and moving back from there. Once book one is finished, I will move on to book four, and so on. So, Kaera's name is pronounced Kay-ruh. As things are mentioned from 'previous books' I will fill in the necessary details. If anything is confusing, let me know and I will help clarify, unless, of course, it is something to be further explained later on. Because I couldn't find a suitable place to describe Kaera's appearance, I'll describe it here:  
_Light brown hair, chopped-recently- to just below the neck, and layered as best as she could manage(it used to reach around her lowerback). Her eyes are light green. She stands about five foot six inches and weighs approxamately 125 pounds. She is almost considered underweight. She is agile, and can move in what almost resembles a feline-like manner. She is made to wear clothes that are often too tight and fairly flashy. (Similar-ish to Michonne's style, but not as cute.)_

Please pardon any typos, for I am not the best speller, unfortunately, even though I'd love to be able to claim that title... I am also not the best with keeping personalities in line and dialogue proper. Should things vary too far from how it should be, please let me know and demand that I correct it! Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoy my first Walking Dead fanfic! ((Looking back at it, I may have accidentally repeated some information from Kaera's past. If so, I apologize.))

* * *

_The definition of abandoned isto be left alone without being cared for or supported._

That's what I was. For several months I was left to fend for myself. I was left to defend myself against the reanimated, the bitter cold and the blazing heat. Many times I fell ill, thinking my life was going to end then, but my luck would not allow me to leave this world so peacefully. I wouldn't be allowed to die before I was tormented by the man I cared so deeply for. There was something about that man, who's name I rarely allowed myself to think about anymore, that kept me on my toes, but in a good way. I used to think about him constantly, to blush when I heard his voice, to giggle like a pathetic schoolgirl when he said my name (which happened rarely).

My name is Kaera Reede. As a young child, I was abandoned by my parents and left at an orphanage. I never knew my parents, but that doesn't bother me anymore. Even if there was an off chance that my parents were still alive, I wouldn't want to meet them. No longer did they hold a spot in my heart, which I so foolishly allowed them to for countless years. For approxamately eighteen years did I allow myself to care, to hope that they would see the error in abandoning me, but they never did. Not that they could now, anyway. They were dead. To accept that reality meant to accept what I have been given. When I accepted that reality, I accepted my entire reality. All the events in the previous years were overwhelming, certainly, but they are what made me who I am now. Not that I can really be proud of my... reduced self.

Ever since I was abandoned, I grew a feral side I never knew I had. Day by day that hidden side of me grew to be more prominant, depleting what bit of sanity I'd ever had. The process was gradual at first and grew more problematic as the time went on. After just three months, all bit of careless thought was gone, and rationality sunk in. Not once have I risked my life for anything foolish. I hunted for what I needed during the day and slept in a tall tree during the night.

More often than not, I simply got by on plant roots, but on occassion I would find an abandoned house with canned foods. Even then, I saved those cans until I truly needed them. To gorge myself on rich foods after eating little other than roots for so long would be foolish. On several occassions I was able to catch a small animal. It was those nights I felt that I ate as a king, er, queen. It was those nights when I sent thanks to whatever was listening, mostly my skilled stealth. What I lacked in hunting and tracking I made up in stealth, finding it easy to remain hidden and quiet.

What was harder even than food to find was water. What water I'd ever managed to find was most likely infected, so I was made to bottle it and wait until I could find a safe place to build a fire and boil it. Sometimes I would have to wait days, others only hours.

All in all, attempting to survive such conditions alone was possible, but difficult, lonely, and frightening.

However, I think I abandoned fear long ago, placing anger and frusteration in its place. This made it easier to kill the reanimated. Before it was a painful, difficult process. Now, I actually considered it a sport.

I abandoned my humanity months ago. Oh, how upset and apalled Dale would be if he could see me now. The thought of Dale still made me cringe, still made me cry. Dale had been a father to me, the only man to ever show genuine concern for my wellbeing. For him to be taken away from me in a mere instant...

I remember the daze I'd fallen into for several days. How I would cry until I fell asleep or could no longer. Anytime someone tried to talk to me, I simply shut down and blocked them out. It was during this time that I believe the man I cared for actually returned my gestures.

He had been the one that repeatedly checked to ensure I was alright, safe. At least, as 'alright' as I could be in that moment. A few times he even tried to talk to me, to get me to say anything. I continued without a word, without food, for two days. I never reacted in a positive, usual way. When he would say my name, I would usually blush and turn away, but I didn't even smile during that time. I could only stare at him or at the ground in front of me.

I think that in some way, I had hoped he would kiss me. Even if it wasn't a conscious thought, it was there. Hell, I would have settled for him simply holding me, but he wasn't one that liked to be touched. As much as I would have liked him to, I would never force something on him. He was one I'd always placed before myself. After all, he was the one who saved my life.

Still, he abandoned me after rescuing me. He left me at that farm. Andrea was left, too, but we were separated in the woods, and I have only seen her since a few times, along with a dark-skinned female. I followed them, once taking a small amount of supplies from them, then escaping, only to find them a few weeks later. If they ever knew I was following, I wouldn't know. They never acted like it.

After a while, I noticed a gradual difference in Andrea, though. She was falling sick, like I did for a period of approxamately a week. Somehow my body managed to fight whatever I had caught off without the aid of medicines. Andrea's body did not seem as fortunate.

Twice I had seen her since her body started to weaken, and each time she looked worse. Since the second time, I had not once seen her or the dark-skinned female, who, had I been into females, was certainly a beauty. I guess I don't have to be into the same sex to call one beautiful, though. She seemed to care genuinely for Andrea, too, which was nice. For her, anyway.

In some way, I was envious. She found someone to care for and protect her. And here I was, barely holding on, losing all of my humanity, and willing to kill nearly anything that dared to approach me. It was a harsh reality, but it was my reality. And I would do well to accept it.

That being said, my current condition was pretty harsh, too.

I had found shelter, only for it to immediately be a dead-end. It appeared to be a prison; an abandoned prison. The problem; it was surrounded and infested with the reanimated.

At a normal time, this would not be a problem. I am good with close-ranged attacks and silent movements, but considering there were well over twenty that I _could_ see, and probably countless more I _couldn't_ see, I wouldn't stand a chance. As much fun as it would be to at least attempt to kill them off, doing so would be a risk at my life.

I suppose I could work to kill off the few on the outside then retreat to the forest, but again, I will not take a risk. Beside that, night was falling.

With a glance to the sky, I noticed at last that the sun was starting to fall behind the distant trees on my right. I grimaced. Looking around and seeing few other trees that were as thick as the tree I perched in, I sighed. As long as I sleep without moving too much, I should be fine here. I would take my chances up here rather than on the ground and vulnerable.

Maneuvering myself into a sturdy position, I worked the bag that rested over my sholders off and pulled it beside me. I gripped the bag tightly and moved closer to the base of the tree and rested my back against it to aid in keeping my balance. On top of the bag, strapped tightly onto it, was a thick sleeping back, which I found by rummaging through a house once.

Within the house were three reanimated, but I killed them off quickly. Upon searching their house, I found many cans of food, most pertaining to the popular Chef Boyardee. I couldn't complain about that, it was a nice change from beans, which often didn't agree with my system. I still had a few of those cans left; six, I think.

Those cans were only one of the prizes I'd found. Oh, when you hear what else I found, you are likely to be skeptical. Of anything I could have found, I'd found a working iPod Nano(that's what the box said it was called). Among other things, I'd also found the sleeping bag, a sharp, long dagger, a package of three lighters, two guns with several boxes of ammo, and plenty amounts of medicine, both of the legal and illegal kind. It seems as though this was a wild, crafty family.

I won't deny that I took everything beneficial to myself, even new clothes, which were either too small-not that it mattered- or too big. The clothes that were too small I used during the summer, cutting and trimming what was necessary. For the larger clothes, I left them as they were, using them for the cold winters. If it was cold enough, I would bundle the clothes, using both sets.

I'd grabbed a thick hoodie before, but I'd only thought of using it to keep the pills silent. I wrapped all the medicine in the hoodie so that if they made a noise, it would be muffled. I was amazed that, at the end of the day, and with numerous times of repositioning the items, it all managed to fit within the bag, excluding the sleeping bag, which I tied on top of the bag with a belt.

At first adjusting to the weight seemed impossible, but after a few days, I hardly noticed, and even found myself checking to ensure I still had it.

I grabbed the sleeping bag, untied it, and rolled it out along the length of the branch. Though the branch was a little over a foot thick, I didn't think it was entirely safe. I could easily roll off the edge, or jump too hard and fall to the ground, some thirty feet below.

Even if I managed to survive that fall, I would be winded, and the reanimated would be certain to get me. So I would be careful. Without a doubt, I would be careful.

Looking above me, I placed my bag on a sturdy branch, in a section in which the tree split off in three directions. The small gap was perfect and provided excellent protection for the bag. I slowly lowered myself back down, pushing myself into the bag. I grabbed the belt, which I rested loosely around my neck, and tied it around my waist. In some ways it could be hazardous, but in many more ways, it could save my life.

The moment I positioned myself comfortably, I closed my eyes. Shortly after, thoughts of past experiences overwhelmed my mind.

Thoughts of Master Kain were first. I thought back to our first fight, and how he won with a single strike agaisnt me. I knew then just how easy he had been on me until then. He'd always treated me like a lady, and not like an apprentice. In some ways, I appreciated it, in others, I was offended. Just a few rounds later, approxamately four months later, I showed him exactly why he should treat me as a student, not as a lady incapable of defending herself. The smug emotion that overwhelmed me that day was immense. Even then, Master Kain showered me with praise and treated me to a fancy meal as a price. I got sick later that day, the rich food too much for my system. I remember telling him the next day what a waste of food it was, and that I was sorry. He simply laughed, gently rubbed at my head, and said it didn't matter. Master Kain was someone I missed often.

After him, I thought briefly about each person I'd lost, Merle, surprisingly, Amy, Jim, Dale, Jacqui... Even more crossed my mind, but it was painful to think too heavily about either individual person.

The more I allowed myself to think about it, the more the realization that I'd lost everyone clouded my mind. In a way, I was numb. The pain all amounted together, creating a blur of emotion.

One sharp pain rose above the others. My loss of the man I cared so deeply for, the man I had occassionally thought myself to be in love with, Daryl Dixon. I'd never told him I was in love with him, but did hint at it on occassion. I never wanted to say it aloud in fear that it was just a massive crush. I was terrified that the moment I said it, I would know it wasn't true.

I was told that when I was in love, I would know. But how could I know if I'd never seen people in love? Sure, Rick and Lori loved each other, but their relationship was... tense, holding on by a thread that was most likely their son. I almost hesitated at calling such a thing love. From what I'd seen, Lori had gone after Shane for a while, and in the beginning, I'd thought the two were the parents of Carl. I was proved wrong when Rick showed up. Everything I'd felt in that moment, the happiness of seeing a family reunited, the initial confusion, my own conflictions... All of it was sketched into my memory.

I never had a family. All of the people in this group had one except me. The thought was crushing, but this wasn't my first or second or even third time realizing it. No, I'd had this realization countless times, each time the pain a little less intense.

However, not allowing myself to think for countless months, and suddenly allowing myself to think about everything all at once was rough.

The sudden realization that I was crying shocked me. I hadn't cried in months. The last time I'd cried was three months ago when I thought the illnesss I seem to get every so many months was going to kill me. The fear of death before finding my loved ones was terrifying. Since then, I've not cried nor gotten sick.

I stared at my open palm as two drops of simmering liquid stared back at me. How strange it was to know those tears came from me, to know that I was still able to cry.

I wiped the tears away halfheartedly. I turned onto my side and curled up in a ball the best I could manage, which wasn't much. I was comfortable enough, or perhaps I was exhausted, because I fell asleep moments later.

I woke to the sounds of shouting and shooting. Immediately I reacted. My hands moved before my mind could wake, as they hastily worked to untie the belt. Once loose, I jumped to my feet as lightly as I could and grabbed my sword from the pack and unsheathed it. I didn't bother to grab anything else, but instead jumped from the branch. I landed with a thump, then rolled forward, my blade out to my side as to not hurt myself. I never raised myself above a crouch as I moved closer to the fence surrounding the prison. Inside I saw countless reanimated.

My eyes widened at what I saw next. Shooting the reanimated was a group of survivors. A few shrunk back, allowing the more capable to do the work. I blinked multiple times, raised myself from my crouched position, and lowered my blade. Surely I had to be seeing things.

Certainly there was no way I could be seeing the people I held so dearly. Even at this distance, I was able to recognize each form. Most of all, the most familiar, had to be Daryl. In a way, I wanted to cry. In another, I wanted to scream. I wanted to run to them and hurt them as bad as they hurt me, and to apologize, cry, and hold each and every one of them.

But, oh, looking at Lori, I saw just how far the baby was progressing. Any day now that baby would be ready to greet this wicked world. And shortly after, that child would be ruined. Whether in the aspect of death or that of never knowing a kind day in its life, it will be destroyed. That scared me. I didn't even know the child, no one did, and I was already frightened for it. If I felt this scared for a child that wasn't even mine, I wondered how Lori felt. Was she scared, too? Or did she believe her child would be able to protect itself?

Ahead with the group working to eliminate the reanimated I saw Daryl. He looked as handsome as ever, even when killing the dead. In some way, he seemed different, more comfortable, permanent. Something about him seemed to radiate purpose and power. I noticed, too, that he stuck nearer to Rick. Where was Shane? I glanced through the frames, not once seeing him. I can't say that if he died, I would be sad. I didn't like Shane all that much, never did. Those reasons were fairly personal, but nothing that could cause me to completely hate him. I simply lost all admiration of him basically the moment I met him.

Absentmindedly, I stepped forward. A part of me wanted to reach out, but the other part told me to keep to myself. I ignored the part desperate for communication and stepped back.

I felt as though I didn't belong anymore. As though I was no longer needed or cared for. The thought hurt, but it was reality. A reality I would have to grow to accept. They made it this far without me, why should I be a necessity now? By the looks of it, little to no casualties were experienced since the hord. They were well enough on their own without me. I wouldn't intrude. I couldn't bring myself to.

And so, there, in the break of the light, with my old friends and loved ones behind me, I walked away. And I didn't look back.

* * *

Don't worry, Kaera isn't exactly leaving! It wouldn't be a Walking Dead fanfic if she was, now would it? I am trying to show just how conflicting Kaera's problems are to her. Being an orphan, she never had to deal with such troubles, so she isn't certain on how to handle them. Instead, she follows what she thinks would be the ideal path, which is often not the correct path. If I start to make Kaera seem unbelievable, please let me know. I want to keep her personality strictly minute and, well, believable. Again, I hope you enjoyed the story! Reviews would be appreciated, but aren't necessary!


End file.
